


Second Chances

by PallasRubiaOrigins



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Adult Sarah Williams (Labyrinth), Ballroom Dancing, F/F, F/M, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28861113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PallasRubiaOrigins/pseuds/PallasRubiaOrigins
Summary: Sarah organises a Halloween Ball. Jareth just happens to wander into it.
Relationships: Jareth & Sarah Williams
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	1. Sarah

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything related to the movie Labyrinth (1986).  
> I am not making any money from writing this story, it is merely meant to amuse myself and others.  
> Please do not repost my stories without my consent.

Looking in the restroom mirror, Sarah notices how the empire waist of the gown hides her hourglass figure and doesn't flatter her curves. She sighs and briefly closes her eyes to allow the disappointment to have its moment. Then she shrugs. It was this or go dressed as a hot dog. She shouldn't have left it so late. The costume department had been virtually ransacked by the time she felt she could tear herself away from the logistics of organising the ball. At least the long gloves, the paisley scarf, and the glass tiara made the ensemble look somewhat put together.

Almost running into the ballroom, she hopes to find a dance partner willing to lead in the mixer. Anyone really, as long as she could dance as a follower. After leading and taking charge non-stop in her job, dancing is her favourite escape. Just swirling and being swept off her feet.

She joins the circle of followers just as the dance caller asks everyone to bow or curtsy to their first partner. She smiles with relief when she sees that there is an even number of leaders and followers and no awkward scuffling is needed to persuade someone to leave the circle or switch roles.

The university's pot-bellied janitor facing her is dressed like a pirate, complete with eyepatch, fake parrot on his shoulder, and a stocking that makes one limb look like a peg leg.

“You outdid yourself, Horst” she compliments her old friend. “Where is Regina?”

“Thank ye, me beauty,” he answers with a buccaneer accent, then continues in his normal voice and gestures behind him: “Regina is somewhere on the other side of the room.”

“You two don't dance together?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

He winks at her and grins a pirate grin “Love be stronger when it has t' look fer ye, is what she says.”

She rolls her eyes and grins despite herself when the dance starts. If there is any truth in that, the love that will eventually find her should have the force of a hurricane.

She likes her life, likes teaching English, likes supporting the art department whenever she can. It had been her idea to rename the Fairy Queen's Ball and make it all a bit more magical.

She cherishes her independence and doesn't suffer solitude. She has friends and nice colleagues. A lover from time to time.

She can support herself, living in a quaint little cottage with a small garden. But still, only her two ginger cats wait for her when she gets home every day.

Sarah twirls and hold out her left hand for her next partner to take. Three steps forward. Then two waltz turns. Then twirl to switch partners again.

She twirls and switches time and time again. The circle of followers moves counter clockwise around the circle of leaders. She recognises some familiar faces – at least if they are not obscured by masks or maquillage.

Sarah twirls and holds out her left hand for her next partner to take. When he takes her in his arms for the waltz turns, there is a moment she actually feels swept of her feet. The benefit of dancing with a strong leader. She notices that his attire seems to come from the same century as her dress. They probably make a nice picture. She smiles at the handsome face smiling back at her.

“You are not from around here,” she says.

“I am just visiting,” he replies.

Something tugs at her memory at the sound of his voice. Then she twirls and holds out her left hand for her next partner to take. Three steps forward. When she turns in the arms of a woman dressed as Elvira, she catches the eye of her previous partner.

She wishes there had been more time to dance with him, but the mixer rules do not allow seconds. The dance will be over before she comes back around to him again, there are too many people. She will have to gather her courage and ask him for a dance afterwards. If she can find him in the crowd, that is.

An odd shiver creeps over her spine at that thought. Finding someone in a crowd of dancers...

Sarah twirls and hold out her left hand for her next partner to take. Three steps forward. Batman holds her too tightly and dances with unsure feet, out of step.

She recovers her rhythm, twirls again and holds out her left hand for her next partner to take. She glances sideways. The frilly shirt he wears is familiar. A strong feeling of déjà vu washes over her when she puts her hand on his shoulder for the waltz turns.

Sarah twirls and holds out her left hand for her next partner to take. Three steps forward. Him again.


	2. Jareth

Jareth likes this old town. It retains some of the magic from bygone eras, unlike so many other Aboveground cities. It is a place where his kind are, if not welcome, at least not actively banned. A strange kind of calm breathes from the old stone buildings. The old opera house carefully keeps the memories of long ago revels. The century-old tombstones in the cemetery still peacefully shelter their dead. He likes to sit on one of the larger ones, spinning his scrying crystals to keep an eye on the mischief of his goblin horde. This is their annual night out and he lets them have their fun – within reason, the kind folk here should not be unduly inconvenienced.

Satisfied that his subjects are not wreaking havoc on unsuspecting victims, he walks through the cobblestone streets. It being All Hallow's Eve, almost everyone is dressed up and he doesn't attract much attention.

“Welcome to the Goblin King's Ball.” A large banner across the façade of the opera house greets him.

_I am giving a ball?_

He walks in, curious, past the line of costumed guests, unnoticed by the security guards checking for tickets and forbidden items.

The large ballroom is decorated with long strips of fabric tied between the pillars that line the central floorspace which has been cleared of its usual rows of chairs to create a large dance floor. Ribbons and strings of pearly beads hang from the crystal chandeliers.

At the far end, on the podium, a King and Queen preside over the festivities. He hears the Queen announce that the ball will start with a mixer dance. The King calls it an excellent opportunity to get to know each other.

He listens as the dance caller explains the steps of the mixer: the dance leaders are to stand in a circle, facing outward, while the dance followers create second circle, facing inward, so that leaders and followers can form the first couples. Three walking steps counter clockwise, twice six steps to turn two full waltz turns, then three more steps for the followers to twirl to their next partner while the leaders stay in place to receive a new follower from the right.

Intrigued, the Goblin King finds a spot in the circle of dance leaders, and comes face to face with an elderly woman dressed all in black, her grey hair pulled back in a braid, her head covered by a pointy black hat. She smiles at him with a knowing gleam in her eye and he smiles kindly back.

“She's waiting for you,” the crone says while they turn. “She just forgot to remember.”

He looks questioningly at her, but she twirls away.

One dancer follows another, the steps are easy enough. He dances with many princesses. A young man dressed as a Roman soldier catches his eye, muscles rippling under tanned skin. The man seems reluctant to leave his arms and shoots him a smouldering look. He answers it with the gaze of possibility.

The music seems endless, the rhythm steady while the melody slowly evolves. He glances at the bandstand and sees the faint shimmer of a glamour around the flute player.

Dance partners switch and switch again and he notices a few more non-human beings among the dancers.

He holds out his hand for his next partner to take. Dark hair. A dress that is oddly well-matched with his own clothing.

“You are not from around here,” she says.

“I am just visiting,” he replies.

She looks questioningly at him, but smiles. He smiles back and twirls her to the woman in vampire garb dancing next to him.

He turns his new partner, a young lady dressed as a cat – of sorts. He looks over her shoulder and sees the dark-haired woman looking at him. He senses her faint wish to dance with him again, and grins. Why not be generous on this day of all days?


	3. Second Chances

“I know you,” she says.

He nods and smiles at her, giving no reply.

“You are the one who once offered me my dreams,” she whispers as she looks into his otherworldly eyes... “And I... I remember everything.”

He remembers as well. Once upon a time there had been a girl. Too old to turn, too young to keep. Not an ordinary girl. How could he have forgotten? But the dancer in his arms is not a girl. Not anymore. How long had it been?

Sarah notices they are no longer part of the ring of dancers, but rather waltzing around in the centre of the circle.

Jareth counts at least thirteen Fæ among the dancers, himself included, enough to call on the magic of the fairy ring...

“Do you believe in serendipity, Sarah?” he asks.

“I believe that nothing comes from nothing, Jareth,” she answers.

The room around them shimmers with more than just the sparkle of light on the chandeliers. The mixer dance continues uninterrupted.

~~~

“Ye were right, wench,” Horst says as he takes Regina in his arms.

“Aren't I always?” she answers while they swirl across the dance floor.

Only one other couple is still dancing. The Goblin King's Ball is long over, but the music still resonates off the old walls of the opera house. As if the building itself longs to make the moment last.

“You could have just told him,” he says.

“He wouldn't have listened,” she grins. “He just needed a push so he could think it was his own idea.” She winks at her life mate. “You men are daft like that.”

“Ain't nothin' daft about love,” he retorts. “Just like there ain't nothin' daft about that pint I am going to down when you finally let me rest my poor feet,” he adds with a grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Earlier this week I was talking to my friend about how we both miss our dance classes and the balls (as the pandemic has cut short all social gatherings). Then I heard Celine Dion's "It's All Coming Back To Me Now" on the radio, and the story just unfolded in my mind.


End file.
